The Price of Two Faces
by tiger7210
Summary: When the Hero of Twilight comes to be wed to the Princess of Hyrule, he instead encounters and falls in love with a warrior named Sheik. He comes to resent the Princess and the duty he must perform, but little does he know that they are one and the same. Can Zelda muster the courage to show him who she truly is, or will the price of two faces prove to be too high? Post TP Zelink.
1. Chapter 1

**I didn't mean for this to happen.**

 **And that's not to say that I don't think that this is good. I wouldn't have posted it if I didn't think it was good. However, I don't typically like overlapping stories because I have so little free time as it is. But I couldn't help writing it, and I couldn't help posting it. So here it is.**

 **All of my stories so far have branched off of Ocarina of Time, but this one is from Twilight Princess. I've wanted to do one ever since I beat the game, but I didn't want to be lost in the crowd. Now that it's been out for a good ten years (yeesh) they've all run their course. The clichés have run their course, and I will be doing my best to avoid them.**

 **Please be aware that my main project, the King's Bride, will be my first priority until it is finished, so updates to this will be few and far between. I also have zero clue where this will end up going, so any feedback about expectations/hopes/ideas etc will be greatly appreciated.**

 **Hope you guys enjoy!**

 **~Alyssa**

 **ABOUT THE STORY:**

 **The Price of Two Faces takes place about a year or two after Twilight Princess. The incarnations of Link, Zelda, and any other familiar names are from the game unless otherwise noted. This will be sticking very closely to the canon, though I am taking full creative license when it comes to fleshing out the world in ways that the game did not. That includes introducing new characters. That being said, it's been years since I played the game so if I'm doing wrong or incorrect in some way, let me know, and I'll do my best to fix it.**

 **Though Sheik does not have an official role in TP, she does in this story. She is canonically a female, and all of the pronouns used will be she and her. I know her gender is very ambiguous and I've seen literally every interpretation of genders and gender identities, but just to be clear, there it is.**

 **Now, buckle your seatbelts. This will be an interesting experiment.**

 **o(OXO)o**

 _Freedom_ , Sheik had come to think, _was a relative term._

Long ago, when she was still quite small, she used to envy the common people. Working in the fields and the cities, they seemed free of any kind of trouble. So long as the king did his job and kept them safe and fed, the only thing they had to worry about was minding the land that they lived on.

From afar, she watched, longing to join them. She heard the laughter of the men in the taverns and saw the smiles of the women on the streets. The children ran barefoot in gaggles through the square, dancing without a care in the world. They braided flowers into each others' hair and smeared mud on their faces, uncaring if it got on their clothes. How much freer could they be?

But there was more than what met her naïve eyes. What she hadn't realized by watching those people was the price they paid. In exchange for the lack of propriety, for the freedom to laugh and smile and sing, some days they went hungry. Some nights they were cold. When war ravaged the land they called home, they fought and died, lacking the ability to deny the king they bent the knee to. They were the first to be sacrificed. They had no power to decide their own destinies, and no say in the laws by which they were forced to live by.

The nobles, too, often had their hands tied. Though they enjoyed some idea of power over the lands that they held and governed, they were in constant fear of losing it. They were forced to skulk and scheme and scrape for the King's favor, all the while managing the matters of the people who were their responsibility. They were the ones who were blamed first and foremost for things that went wrong, and there was always someone to answer to. They were the people's servants, but also the King's. It was a precarious balancing act, one that no amount of fine clothes and expensive parties could truly make up for.

Even the Princess of Hyrule herself, the most powerful women in the entire kingdom, wasn't free. Arguably, she was weighed down with more shackles than anyone. Yes, she lived in the palace and wore beautiful dresses, parading around with a lovely tiara on her head to balls and banquets and jousts. She had the best of everything. She was the envy of every girl in the kingdom.

But Hyrule was her responsibility. When she failed, the people bled.

And bleed they did. Not even the power that she possessed gave her the ability to stop the Twilight Invasion. Her palace and gowns had jewels hadn't stopped them from murdering her father. And now, years after the ordeal of surrendering, being captured and then rescued, she didn't even have the freedom of choosing her own husband. That honor would go to a man she had met exactly thrice.

The situation in Hyrule had become unstable, her brother, newly crowned King Dorian, had said. There was no way the nobles could be allowed to fight amongst themselves for her hand, not when Hyrule needed to view herself as a united whole. The people needed to feel safe. And how much safer of a man could she be wed to than the one who had delivered them to salvation in the war?

Of course, there were none.

Sheik's eyes turned to the setting moon, and she sighed.

It came with a price. Everything came with a price.

She could enjoy some liberty by night, but be exhausted come day. She could be happy and leave her responsibilities behind, but only for a few hours at a time.

She could have peace in her country, but only if it meant marrying a man she barely knew.

She longed to be free, but what _was_ free?

She had to concede that she didn't know.

Sheik released her legs and stretched them out, stiff from hours of hugging them to her chest. The chill of the autumn night had led her to abstain from her usual antics in favor of curling up beside the chimney of some bar in the East District. Though she was near covered from head to toe in soot, the spicy smell of the smoke calmed her frayed nerves. She hadn't been able to get away these last few days with all the preparations to receive her intended, and she felt her mind was about to snap.

There had been meetings about how she was to wear her hair. About what dress she should wear. About if she should wear jewelry, and if she did, how much, and how expensive? They wanted to impress the Hero of Twilight, but at what point would he think her shallow and frivolous?

She had wanted to scream for days on end. Though she was the first to concede that she knew next to nothing about the Ordonian, she knew that he would care less what she wore. He had seen her at her worst without so much as batting a lash.

But then, none of them knew that. As far as they were concerned, she had sat in the castle contrite and waiting until he had liberated them after single-handedly defeating Ganondorf. Her possession of the Triforce of Wisdom had to be kept a secret. There had been no witnesses to their battle through Hyrule field to stop the evil Ganondorf, and no one but the Hero knew that she had been blessed with the power of the Goddesses.

He had not betrayed her. Then again, he wouldn't have had the chance to, either. Not one for festivities, the Hero had slipped away as soon as he could get away with it, and had remained in Ordon ever since.

Until now, of course, when he returned on the request of the new king.

He would arrive on the morrow.

Sadly, Sheik lamented that it couldn't be called the morrow anymore…by the look of the sky, it was already today.

In a scant few hours she would meet the man that she was to spend the rest of her life with.

He was the man who had saved her country, the silent but loyal man who had rescued her from Zant and fought beside her against Ganondorf. He was strong and gentle and had a sort of air of intensity about him that made her intrigued.

But he was also the man that had picked up and left when all was said and done without so much as a goodbye. After the Mirror of Twilight had shattered right before their eyes, she never heard him speak another word. Whatever delusion she had of them becoming—oh, she didn't know… _friends_ , perhaps, or comrades bound by shared burden and circumstance—dissolved immediately.

It pricked her to this day. She didn't pretend to understand why he had chosen to so studiously ignore her, and not understanding made it sting worse than anything.

She supposed she would have her answers soon. If the Hero had any sense, he would start off their reunion with an apology.

With a last glimpse at the fading moon, she stood. Her time was dwindling fast, and she would need to head back now if she had any hope of sleep. She knew there would be no chance of sneaking away for a nap today.

The surety of a thousand nights guided her as she took two short steps back, then took off running. She flew through the air and landed on the building opposite the bar for only a second before jumping again. Her nimble feet tread lightly as she weaved through the rooftops, following the familiar path that would take her home. She was as quick and silent as the cats that prowled the alleyways in the West End. No one was any wiser.

A loose brick in one of the walls that surrounded the palace served as a foothold as she hoisted herself up, and many other imperfections found on various nights helped her get her way over. She had realized long ago that any kind of subterfuge was wasted energy on her part. At this time of night, the guards were all asleep or close to it.

She leaped from the top of the wall across the gardens to an oak, her fingers just catching on the highest branch that she knew would hold her weight. The limb sagged as it always did, but she could never help the nervous breath that she sucked in when it began to fall.

She dropped down to a lower bough as soon as she knew she was stable. This branch was much sturdier; she could walk across it nearly to the end. As soon as she had gone as far as she could, she was in the air again, completing the distance between the tree and the castle wall with ease.

The east wing's third floor window was big enough that she could wriggle through, and the hall was rarely guarded. As soon as her feet hit the blissfully echo-proof stone of the floor, she began to run again.

The servants' staircase was the most obvious choice, and she took them. There was no business for any maid at this hour, and they were always deserted. She climbed four flights under the cover of darkness, then peered out into the hall on the landing.

She allowed herself a moment to smile. It seemed that she had perfect timing on this night; the men at the end of the hall were too occupied with the changing of the guards that she could pull open her door and slide through.

The room was cold—she had long since told the maids not to disturb her at night, and the fire had gone out without her there to replace the kindling—but she didn't have the time or patience to start a fire. Instead, she crept across the room to her vanity.

In the mirror, a red-eyed warrior stared back at her. She was cloaked in a shawl, her face completely covered besides those eyes and a tuft of blonde hair that must have escaped at some point during the night. Her limbs were lean but strong, and somehow she conveyed a fluidity that was so pronounced despite her motionlessness. Her chest was flat. Her wrapped hands balled into fists.

She raised her arms above her head, and when they lowered, her costume melted away. Gone were the shawl and the body suit and the wrappings. Her eyes changed in an instant, a soft blue overtaking the red. Unbound, her golden hair fell in waves down her back. Her clothes morphed into a nightdress. Her boots faded until her feet were bare.

In the mirror, a frowning woman of twenty stared back at her. Her features soft and lovely, they called her beautiful, but all she could see was the dark circles that graced the underside of her dull eyes, the lines that creased her forehead. She felt naked in the flimsy gown that she slept in, and she wrapped her arms around herself to guard herself from the chill.

The Princess Zelda walked across her floor, uncaring of the creaking noise that her weight made on the old hard wood. Running a hand down her face, she crawled into bed, balling on her side and pulling the covers up to her chin.

As she drifted asleep, a small part of her wondered if she would be able to keep this secret from her husband. The Hero wasn't stupid, not by any stretch of the imagination. If they were to share the same bed, there would be no way to keep it from him. A touch of sadness settled in her gut as she contemplated tonight being the last night she could ever run free again.

Or as free as she could ever be, anyway.

 **Obviously, not a lot of plot, but a bit of character work.**

 **I've always thought TP Zelda was the most wise of the Zeldas, but also, she's the most burdened. There's not that much canon-ly to go off of (though she has more appearances than any other Zelda besides maybe ST) but I've always held the impression that she carries a harder weight than the rest of them. She's older, more mature. And she always seems so much more sad.**

 **Leave a word, if you would! I'm still kind of experimenting with this concept, so any kind of feedback would be appreciated. Keep in mind that my prefaces are always short, so the regular chapters will be nice and longer.**

 **See you guys later!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! Thank you for such positive and uplifting feedback. I'm glad you guys are interested in this story, and I can't wait to show you the direction I'm taking this!**

 **This chapter is totally short, but it's only because the chapter break made the most sense where I put it. I could have continued on to a different scene, but the pacing would have stunk. So forgive me, and know that the regular chapters** _ **will**_ **be longer on average. Sometimes you just get stuck with a doozy :)**

 **I hope you guys enjoy!**

 **~Alyssa**

 **o(OXO)o**

Her first thought, however ridiculous it was, was that he was taller than she remembered.

Shaking hands with her brother the King, the Hero was bigger by a good few inches, and her brother was not a small man. Granted, it had been nearly six years since she had seen him last. He had been young, then—sixteen, perhaps seventeen? She couldn't remember—and he still had all the time in the world to grow.

Manhood suited him well. While he had never been unattractive, he had grown into himself in a way that corrected the awkward gripes of adolescence. His ears were no longer too big for his head. His jaw had become stronger and shadowed by scruff. He had even grown out his hair, taming the awful shag it had always been into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck.

She could not have been gladder that he had rid himself of that awful hat.

"I trust your travels were safe," Dorian said as he gestured for him to enter the Great Hall, towards where she was standing.

"As safe as they can be," the Hero replied as he walked. "There's always a fool or two that tries to jump a man traveling alone."

"He's getting closer and I still don't smell the goats," a voice whispered in her ear.

" _Diaval_ ," she hissed in rebuke to the younger of her two brothers, elbowing him in the side.

He snickered. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Though he was her elder by four years, it was easy to forget sometimes.

The tips of Dorian's ears reddened as he fell into stride beside the Hero, clearly embarrassed. "I am…very sorry to hear that. If you have their descriptions, I'll send for the Captain of the Guard, and he can dispatch a few men to detain them at once."

"There's no need for that," the Hero said with a grin that transformed his face from a stiff and brooding young man into someone you wished you knew. "He can go and see them himself. They're still bound to my house, awaiting the King's justice."

Flabbergasted, Dorian's laugh echoed her own stunned thoughts. "This match seems better all the time."

They finally reached the group of them that was gathered.

"Allow me to present to you my wife, Helena; my brother, Diaval." He gestured to each of them in turn. The Hero bowed to the Queen and shook the Prince's hand. "And of course, you and my dear sister have met."

She extended her hand, but instead of kissing it, he grasped it tightly in his. His eyes flashed to hers, and though they were many inches higher than she was used to, they were still the same piercing blue whose scrutiny left her feeling bare.

She swallowed, a lump forming in her throat.

She could remember those eyes exactly copied into a lean and lithe wolf, its shimmering coat almost ethereal. Even then, she could sense the power, the intelligence behind those eyes. And, as she noted now as well, the distrust.

"Greetings, Hero," she said with as warm of a smile as she could manage. "You are very welcome here."

His answering smile seemed just as rehearsed. It was stiff, somehow…all wrong compared to the grin he had given Dorian just a minute before. "Thank you, Princess. It is…good to see you well. The years have treated you kindly."

"For you, as well."

It wasn't a lie. In addition to shooting up half a foot, he had filled out as well; the gangly teenager she knew had been erased and replaced with a striking man. Though he didn't have as much muscle as some of the patrolling guards did—and likely never would—his limbs exuded a kind of fluidity that sang out strength. And from what she could make out under his clothes…he was definitely…able-bodied.

She felt herself flush just as red as Dorian's ears, and she chided herself. What was she, some floozy teenage girl who swooned at any man that happened to pass her by? She was being absolutely ridiculous.

Thankfully, her brother decided to intercede at that moment, gesturing for them all to begin towards the dining hall for lunch. It would be a private affair now, though a grand feast was being prepared as they spoke to welcome the Hero to the capital.

She dreaded it. Large affairs left her drained, and such a feast as was planned could last well into the early morning. She would have to smile and dance and chat with the other ladies of the court, and there was no doubt that they would be picking at her for gossip that she didn't have about her elusive intended.

Exhausting, to be sure.

At least the food would be good.

Lunch was simple—every hand the kitchen had was working for that night—but filling. She could tell by the way the Hero's eyes lit up when he took a sip of the soup that it was something familiar. He made a joke about pumpkins and yetis that was lost on her, but she laughed anyway, not wanting to be rude, then responded with her own anecdote.

Was it her, or did he grimace when she spoke?

Suddenly frustrated, she turned to Helena, who was absent-mindedly picking at her peas.

"Are you ready for the party tonight?" she asked.

"Of course." Her very pregnant sister-in-law beamed, brought to attention at once. "Though it _is_ relieving that none of the attention will be on me this time. I am not sure I could manage all the dancing with my little one tagging along." One of her hands found her swelling belly, and she rubbed it gently.

Helena was her opposite in so many ways—she was genuinely kind, for one. Having being raised as a merchant's daughter in Hylia City, it could be said that she was still adjusting to the life of finery that she had married into. She was humble and generous. She loved the big events and she was beloved by the people because of it. Fundamentally, she was just a happy person, and it was hard not to be caught up in her smiles.

At the same time, Zelda's situation now made it hard not to resent her.

Though she knew that her brother and Helena couldn't be happier together, she also knew the politics behind the match. He had looked hard until he found someone from the masses that he could love to appease the common people, and now that one of their own wore the crown, they couldn't be more pleased.

The nobles, on the other hand, weren't so impressed. In fact, many of them were offended that the new king had bypassed their eligible girls all together to marry someone so _common_. They were angry, and now it fell to Zelda to calm them down with a match of her own.

They wanted to see someone from among them by her side in line for the throne, and her brother had found the perfect one to do it. The Hero, the Hero. He had been elevated to his rank after the war, but never got involved enough in politics to be manipulative in the castle. No one saw him enough to be hated.

And so the crown would have one marriage from the common folk and another from the well-to-do. Everyone could be satisfied. Hyrule would be united again. At Zelda's expense.

Of course, she could never _really_ hate the sweet girl that kept her brother smiling, and it wasn't really her fault anyway. If she wanted to blame someone, it would be Diaval, who refused to marry at all. Despite the fact that he had a string of lovers longer than the Zora river and was only the heir presumptive, there were no few noble girls who trailed after him like lovesick puppies. Several were wound around his fingers so tightly it was a miracle he hadn't just picked one yet to shut Dorian up.

But it would have been too easy, too conveniently the solution to all of Zelda's problems. And though Zelda knew he loved her unconditionally, he didn't love anyone more than himself. He wouldn't trade his freedom for hers. Honestly, she probably wouldn't either. But one of them needed to be responsible. When Dorian came to her, pleading for her to do this for him, for her country, she knew what she had to do.

Why not give her hand away for Hyrule, after all? It wasn't as if she'd ever get close enough to someone on her own to love.

"Zelda?"

She blinked, frowning as she realized she'd been caught drifting. "I'm sorry, I lost myself for a moment there. What?"

Helena smiled patiently. "I asked what you were wearing."

Clothes. Something easy. "I haven't given even a little bit of thought towards it," she said. "All week, the only thing I could think about was…was…"

"Him," Helena finished. "I know what you mean. Even with how well I got to know Dorian before we wed, everyone still called it an arranged marriage because of how quickly it happened. There were times that I was worried I didn't know who he truly was."

Zelda's eyes slid to the other end of the table, where Dorian and the Hero were engaged in a conversation about guard rotations, obviously paying no mind to her own discussion. Diaval, looking hopelessly bored, caught her gaze and mimicked tying a noose.

She grinned before turning back to her sister-in-law. "I don't think he likes me very much," she admitted, not daring to raise her voice above a whisper.

"He doesn't know you any better than you do him. How can he?"

Helena could be so level-headed sometimes. "I don't know. I just…he could be less outwardly hostile about it. He seems annoyed by me."

"No one could be annoyed by you once they know you, Zelda. Just give him a bit of time. This is just as sudden as it is for you. Perhaps it's just the idea of the arranged marriage that's making him cross. He can't have dreamed of this."

She resisted the urge to snort. "Yes, well, it wasn't exactly my first choice either."

"Who's the outwardly hostile one?" Helena rebuked gently.

Zelda had to concede her point. Maybe they were more alike that she originally thought.

They filled the rest of the hour speaking of the baby. The old nursery that was last used by Zelda was being cleaned out and refurbished in preparation, and Dorian had been commissioning little wooden swords even though there was no way of knowing it was a boy. Helena had laughed at that, saying that he was putting the cart in front of the horse as he always had a tendency to do, but Dorian had argued that he wanted any child of his to learn to fight regardless of their gender. Look how easily war had broken out in Hyrule just a few years before, he said, it could easily happen again. If Zelda had known how to fight, would she have been captured so easily?

Helena had agreed then. The potential heir of Hyrule couldn't be left defenseless.

The plates were soon cleared. Lunch was finished, but no one but Diaval made any move to leave. But then, no one really cared what Diaval did any longer. He did what he wanted and would laugh in the face of anyone who tried to stop him, manners be damned.

She felt a pang of envy, wishing that people extended her the same slack they gave him.

And so she sat and wait, toying with her napkin as she waited for Dorian and the Hero to finish talking so they could go. But they didn't. They had moved on to the obvious weaknesses in the guard rotation, the Hero explaining with animated hand motions about how he could easily exploit it. Dorian was engrossed.

Helena, who never got annoyed, was starting to look irritated.

Finally, for both of their sakes, she decided that it was now or never. She stood to go. It broke the lasting conversation that had continued at the head of the table.

Her brother looked confused. "Leaving already?"

Already? Goddesses, the food had been gone for a good half an hour!

"Unfortunately," she smiled apologetically as she pushed in her chair. "It will take ages to get my hair ready for tonight."

Dorian made a face. If there was one thing that led to zero questions asked, it was anything female. "By all means, then."

Victory. Truly, she didn't need to be anywhere for two, maybe three hours yet. She couldn't sneak away during the middle of the day, but perhaps she could squeeze in a nap, or a chapter of the book she had been working on. No one would be looking for her, and it would be glorious.

She was halfway to freedom when a voice stopped her.

"Princess, wait." The Hero stood and strode over to her side, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Would you mind walking with me before you go? We have a lot to discuss."

It was true, there was much to talk about, but she could happily save that for another day. Or never. That would be preferable.

"My hairdresser will have my head for waiting this long to go." She tried her hardest to sound sorry.

"You can blame me." The Hero smiled. He offered her his arm like a good gentleman.

She could hardly refuse him again, not in front of her family, and must have known it by the look on his face. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"All right." She took his arm, and off they went down the hall.

"Which way to your bedroom?" he asked as soon as they were alone.

She bit back a smirk. "You don't remember?"

"I've only broken into this castle two or three times." He didn't sound amused. "Pardon me for forgetting."

There it was again, the stiffness she had begun to convince herself she was imagining when she saw him talking with Dorian. She could not for the life of her understand these constant swings of his mood. All his aggravation was taken out on her.

"It was meant as a joke," she said quietly.

"Sorry." He bit out, wholly unapologetic.

Nayru, where was the smile that he had given her just a minute before?

"I'm on the sixth floor. The stairs are this way."

They walked in painful silence for a time, broken only by a direction as she led him through her home. He didn't look at her, and she didn't look at him. Fleetingly, she wondered if this was what the rest of her life would be like.

Finally she couldn't take it any longer.

"What was it that you wanted to talk about?"

She saw his jaw tighten. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if searching for the words. After a moment, he found them. "This…arrangement. Was it your idea?"

"No." She shook her head. "My brother's."

This seemed to confuse him. "Why did you agree to it, then?" He sounded exasperated.

"Why did _you_?" She turned it around quickly, stunned at the sudden sharpness that tinged his tone. If he hated the idea of this so much, why didn't he just turn her brother down? He, unlike her, had a semblance of a choice.

His eyes grew hard. "I did not give my life to save this country to have it fall into the hands of an evil not so easily detected."

So he did understand how dire the political situation was, how corrupting the noble men of Hyrule were. They were like snakes, and she was glad that he would not easily fall into their trap.

"I suppose that means we have the same goal." It was a pity it made them both so clearly unhappy.

"Yes," the Hero agreed, "We're allies again. Only this time, the stakes are much higher."

She didn't see his point there. "Please. What are a few old politicians to Ganondorf?"

He frowned. "I don't know. At least during the war I knew who my enemy was. Here…it's very hard to be sure. There's no one around any longer to guard my back. If I don't watch myself, I'll end up with a knife through it."

Smart and self-aware and capable of comprehending the stakes. She couldn't have asked for a better partner, a better ally, as he said. Still, why couldn't she shake this feeling of unease?

"Wise words," she complimented. "You are very well-spoken."

"I read." His tone was more corroding than acid. "I also bathe, should that come as a surprise to you or your brother."

She felt her face turn beet red, mortified at once. Words flew around in her head, and she helplessly struggled to find the right ones to say, but before she could, he offered her a grim smile.

"Before we wed, you should know that I have exceptional hearing." He released her hand then, offering her a bow. "I am an admirable actor, as well. Let us hope for both of our sakes that you are as well, or I don't think that this arrangement will succeed as we all wish."

And without another word, he turned on his heel and started back down the hall the way they came.

 **Oh no, my poor babies. This is hard to write.**

 **The complexity of TP!Link is something that I've thought about a lot, and all lines point to him feeling some kind of bitterness towards Zelda. More on why in later chapters, but it has a lot to do with Midna, who won't be appearing but will certainly be playing a role.**

 **Leave a word, please! I'm so happy that so many of you are interested, and I hope I'm living up to your expectations!**

 **Until next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Whew! It's been a little while, huh?**

 **I wasn't kidding when I said that this wasn't much of a priority, but I was feeling inspired earlier and knocked out about 75% of this in one sitting. So here it is, ready for your enjoyment.**

 **Thanks so much for all the reviews, follows, and favorites. I was blown away that so many of you have so much faith in this with that little to go off of. It's super sweet.**

 **Hope you guys enjoy!**

 **~Alyssa**

 **o(OXO)o**

She knew that Dorian must really be kissing up to her when the head chef wheeled out the cake.

Standing at least as tall as the man himself, it was a replica of the old palace before it had been rebuilt. It had been painted with care, every brick and paneling distinguishable from the next. Each of the towers stood tall and proud, surrounded by trees spun of toasted caramel exactly the color of autumn foliage. The windows were plated with glass of thin sugar. There were even people; noble ladies in pretty frosted dresses dotted the grounds, and little marzipan figurines of guards stood at their posts on the walls.

Everyone knew Zelda had a passion for sweets.

But as magnificent as the creation was, it was also completely profligate. Many things still hadn't recovered from the war, and luxury crops—like the western-grown sugar—were among them. Though there wasn't much of a utilitarian use for the sweetener that she adored, a part of her thought it was wrong for it to be used so extravagantly when there were still shortages. She could only imagine what the price had been to get it all, and funds should have been allocated towards more important things than pleasing her.

But at the same time, she was grumpy and willing to be babied. Six courses, and she had gotten exactly six words out of her intended—"Could you please pass the potatoes?"

It wasn't from lack of trying, either. Every time she mustered the courage to try and speak to him again, he always managed to have his mouth full or in the middle of a conversation with someone else. After the tenth or so time, when she opened her mouth only for him to excuse himself to the restroom, she was suspecting that it was purposeful.

So much for acting.

Dorian was well aware of the reluctance she had for this match, but if he had even an inkling of the way she had been treated so far, there would have been a much bigger cake. Perhaps even some custard to go with it.

Abruptly, she didn't care one bit about responsibility. The western economy was past due for some Crown-backed stimulus anyway.

She didn't have to pretend to be delighted as she extolled the talent of the chef, helping herself to a large slice of the east wing. It was the only thing she had to be excited about all evening. Between the nightmare that had been her hair appointment and the equally traumatizing hour of dodging questions from the younger ladies of the court, she'd been miserable for most of the day.

And by the look of it, this celebration would be going strong for a few more hours yet.

So she ate her cake and pretended like she was having the time of her life. She was debating how long it would take before everyone got drunk enough that they wouldn't notice her sneaking away when someone behind her tugged on her hair.

She whirled around at once, ready to led whoever it was have it, but it was only her brother with laughter in his eyes.

"Care to dance, little sister?" Diaval asked, his arms spread wide.

Immediately, she was suspicious. It was the first time in a long time she'd seen him without a girl on his arm at an event.

"Who are you trying to hide from this time?" she asked, raising a brow.

Caught, he gave her a guilty smile. "Lucille Wentworth. Word is her father told her to get herself pregnant so I'd marry her, like that would ever happen. I don't have the heart to ruin her reputation, though, so I need you to help."

She snorted, wondering how many children he already had sired and then a second later deciding that she'd rather not know. "Fine, but you'll have to drag me away from my fiancé."

"Yes, how _is_ the goat herder?" he asked as he led her from her seat to the floor, where a few couples had struck up a dance.

"Don't say that!" she hissed, her head whipping to the side where she knew the Hero was sitting. Thankfully, he was engrossed in conversation with a few of the higher ranked knights, making no indication that he'd heard. "He heard you earlier when you made a joke of him, and he was _not_ amused. I don't want to make him angry again."

The smile fell a bit from his face. "He's not violent, is he?"

"No," she assured him, even though it didn't matter. They both knew that the Hero could be senile and the engagement would continue. Dorian loved her as much as a brother could, but he wouldn't compromise the stability of a country over the instability of the only man in the right position to marry her. "Still, I'd rather you not mock him. He _will_ be my husband soon, and where will I be if everyone thinks him a fool?"

"All the better, once the war is only a bad memory and you annul."

Diaval always knew how to make her smile.

The music was light and lively, and he led her through the steps of the complicated dance with ease. Though all of the royal children had taken lessons with a dance master since they could walk, Diaval had always excelled. He lifted and spun her around with a practiced grace that left her fumbling to keep up. Even so, he was doing much of the work, and it was worlds of fun. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so relaxed at a party.

After a song or two, the music shifted into something slower. Grateful for a change in pace and a chance to take a breath, they began to talk again. She was laughing at a joke he had made when she looked up, the sound choking in her throat when she saw the Hero coming up from behind him.

"What's the m—Oh." Diaval stopped, as the Hero had tapped him on the shoulder. "What can I help you with?"

The Hero flashed him his most winning smile. "Could I steal my intended away from you for a dance?"

"Of course," her brother bowed out gracefully, handing her over with an equally friendly grin. But while the Hero wasn't looking, he shot Zelda a look. _This one is good_ , it said.

The problem with the song he had chosen to intercede in was that there were barely any steps at all. It left them face to face, closer than either of them wanted, and all the time in the world to talk.

Except he wouldn't. He seemed determined not to, in fact, as they spun slowly around the floor. And so she would not speak either. Instead, she focused on leading him through the simple dance. He was clumsy and awkward, nothing like the sure-footed Diaval that she had left behind.

"You look lovely," he finally said after a minute of silence, his tone almost begrudging.

"Thank you." She struggled to keep her face impassive. "You look rather nice yourself."

It wasn't a lie. Someone had cleaned him up—cut his hair and given him a shave and put him in presentable clothes. He had been handsome when he first arrived, even covered in the muck from the road, but now that he was clean and dressed like he should be…he was dashing. Almost regal.

More silence.

"How has your evening been?" she tried.

"Fine, until now. I'm not very keen on dancing."

It was another one of those remarks that made her feel like dirt. "Why ask me, then?"

His jaw tightened. "Someone I was talking to mentioned I hadn't been with you since dinner. I didn't want anyone to think there was anything wrong. But I didn't realize how much we would have to talk."

"What's wrong with talking to me?"

"I don't have anything to say."

"Why are you acting this way?"

"Don't you have anything to offer besides questions?"

At a stalemate, they glowered at each other. The air was thick with angry tension, though around them couples swayed oblivious to the angry words they had shared.

But however absorbed they all were in their own worlds, there was bound to be someone watching.

She doctored her expression into a lovesick smile, replicated from Dorian's stupid grins when he saw his wife. "Do _not_ raise your voice at me in public," she hissed. "I could care less what you think of me, but as far as anyone else knows, things are wonderful, do you understand?"

A mask fell over his face as well. "As long as you leave me be in our private time? Fine."

She laughed like he had said something particularly charming. "It's a good thing that I have no desire to see you more than necessary, then."

"The feeling is mutual."

The music changed then, and he stopped, reaching down to bring her hand to his lips. "I'm glad we're on the same page," he murmured, gently giving her a kiss. "We'll be able to work something out tomorrow."

Her eyes were icy. "Until then."

He strode away, back towards the group of knights he had been speaking to earlier, and she was left alone. Aimlessly, she wandered over to one of the tables lining the walls and helped herself to a drink.

And hours later, when her brother made the official announcement to all attending that the Hero would be her husband, hers was the biggest grin of all.

 **o(OXO)o**

She could tell by the position of the moon in the sky that it was nearly morning by the time she slipped out of her window, but she didn't care. After the night she just had to endure she deserved some time away, even if it was just for a few hours.

She felt like a person reborn as she glided across the rooftops, finally free of the constricting ball gown and corset she was forced to don. Here was a place that was free of obligations and pretenses, where she wasn't forced to pretend to love a man that hated her. There was nothing but the sweet smell of the night air and the light of the moon. She savored it.

The feast had been disastrous—there was simply no other word for it. Once the engagement had been announced she'd been swarmed with congratulations and questions and advice. Apparently they were both consummate actors, because most everyone believed that it had been a match for love instead of an arranged marriage. It brought a layer of earnesty to the whole thing that Dorian adored and encouraged, so she had to spend the rest of the night hanging on the Hero's arm and blushing as he recalled the night he proposed. The whole thing had been nauseating, especially considering their conversation earlier in the night, and it left her more frustrated than she'd been in a very long time.

After a time she found a bakery somewhere buried in the streets of the South District and realized how long she had been gone when she could already smell the morning's bread baking through the chimneys. She would be missed if she stayed out much longer, and though it barely felt like a few minutes had passed, she turned and began towards home.

Even though she was saddened by the return, there was something comforting in going through the motions to get back to her room. There was a smile on her face as she climbed from the roof to the castle wall, from the castle wall to the tree, across the tree to the third floor hall—

The hair on the back of her neck stood, and as her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the hallway she realized that she was not alone.

Leaning against the wall was a tall man dressed in green, completely undone. His hair was mussed like he had run his hair through it, his jacket was tossed carelessly on the floor, his fancy shoes were discarded down the hall, obviously thrown.

And his eyes, a blue deeper and more piercing than ice, were fixed on her. Like he knew her. Like he saw right through her façade and into the very depths of her soul. Despite the layers of clothes wrapped around her from head to foot, covering even her most innocuous parts, she felt naked. Caught.

She blurted out the words before she could stop them. "You're not supposed to be up here."

But rather than taking on the cold and defensive tone that she had become so accustomed to and resorting to anger like she had expected, the Hero only raised a brow. "And you are?"

This threw her. She had always been careful, so careful, not to engage anyone when she was like this. Her disguise was meticulously crafted through her magic—even her voice was a few tones off from what it was when she was herself—but there was something about the way that she held herself that made her certain that anyone could see through the masquerade. And so she had never spoken to anyone when she was like this. Consequently, she never had to explain herself, either.

Again, her response was thoughtless. "No one has ever stopped me before."

And to her ultimate surprise, he began to laugh. "Well, I'll tell you what," he said, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I won't tell if you won't."

There was something contagious about his laughter, something that made her want to forget all the hostility of the past day and laugh with him. But she couldn't. It was impossible to reconcile the harsh words he had said to her at the ball with the smiling, friendly jokes that he was sharing with her now. And more than that, she was angry. What could this stranger have possibly done to earn the smiles of the Hero that Zelda hadn't already? She didn't understand. It wasn't fair.

He must have noticed her defensive demeanor, for his smile fell a second later. "My apologies. Have I done something to offend you?"

"No," she said quickly, though every bit of her heart screamed _yes._ "You took me by surprise, is all. There aren't many people awake at this time of night."

"Yes, well, I could say the same. I'm not exactly dressed for company." He paused then, considering. "But why don't you stay? I haven't met a halfway normal person since I came to this blasted town, and you seem decent enough."

Halfway normal? "What do you mean?"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't know if you happened to be at the feast, but everyone and their mother has on twelve pounds of makeup and enough jewelry to keep my village fed for a year on their person. Not to mention they're all smiling and pretending while they scheme. One wrong move and I'll end up with twelve daggers in my back, but it's impossible to tell from who. The masks they wear are absurd."

She felt her hand rise to touch the covering that masked her own face. "And mine isn't?"

The scowl that had formed on his face broke in an instant, his eyes lighting up. "That's what I mean. I can see right through _your_ mask. _You're_ decent. Farore forbid any of those blundering idiots make a joke."

For some absurd reason, her heart sang. She made him smile. He called her _decent_.

 _But no_ , a small voice in the back of her head reminded her, _he hadn't called_ her _decent. He'd called a stranger decent._

The warmth that filled her chest was gone in an instant, and she suddenly felt very deflated and very confused. Why did she care so much about what this inconsequential man thought of her? Why did she love it so much to see his smile, to have him on such wonderful speaking terms?

Goddesses, it was all so baffling. But she couldn't puzzle it all out here, where she might let something accidentally slip.

"I don't think I'm the right kind of company for you." She took a step backwards, towards the window.

He noticed. "Don't go," he pleaded. "I'm sorry if I offended you. I know we've just met, and under very strange circumstances, but you seem so normal. It's impossible not to speak freely to you."

She shook her head, reminding herself that he was only talking to a façade. She backed up another step. And though he tried to reach out to her, tried to grab her arm before she made her move, she was faster. She was out the window before he cleared half the distance between them, managing to latch onto a tree branch in a precarious grip before dropping to the grass.

Unable to help herself, she looked up, and sure enough, he was leaning out the window. It was too late to call out without waking up half the castle, but even from here she could see the pleading look in his eyes that asked her back.

She wouldn't, though. Couldn't. Because as soon as he learned the truth, he would surely take this last freedom away.

She darted away to the cover of the wall, finding one of the many familiar footholds in the brick and beginning to climb. Though it was risky without her extensive knowledge of the guard rotation there, she managed to find a way inside through a second floor balcony and took her normal route to her bedroom from there, avoiding the corridor that she knew hosted the Hero with a wide berth.

And as she went through the ritual of unweaving the spell from her skin, her eyes couldn't help but linger on her face.

Ever since she was old enough to truly understand what hatred was, she knew that there were people somewhere that hated her. It was the nature of her role—as a princess, there would always be those that opposed the crown.

But that was an impersonal kind of hatred. It wasn't anything that she had said or done that had inspired it; it was just the way that things were.

With the Hero, though…there was something awful about the way he despised her. No one in her life had been so outwardly caustic towards her, and she didn't understand what she had possibly done to make him the way he was.

The shawl melted from around her and her hair came tumbling down in wave. The bones of her cheeks rearranged as her lips became thinner, her nose wider. The mask of a stranger that had somehow captured the attention of the Hero morphed into her own face, the one that he abhorred so much.

She could only wonder why who she was wasn't good enough for him.

 **I'm so frustrated with both of them they're such stubborn babies.**

 **I'm still getting a sense of both of their characters; I had to rewrite that dance scene five times before I was satisfied that it was in-character. There's so much of Link that is guarded from Zelda that I haven't had a chance to explore just yet, so figuring out what he'd say and do is still a bit tricky. Bear with me.**

 **That being said, I'm working hard, and I'd love to hear what you think! Leave a word!**

 **Until next time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**So, betcha you thought you'd never see me update THIS again. Well, here I am! I'm not dead, even though senior year is kicking my butt. I'm neck-deep in college applications, standardized tests, and original manuscripts. The free time that I always used to write has melted away, and I'm trying my best.**

 **Thank you for all the favorites, follows, and reviews! The support for this story right out of the gate has been overwhelming, and I truly appreciate it.**

 **I really hope you enjoy the chapter, and that it was worth the wait!**

 **~Alyssa**

 **o(OXO)o**

"You know, I think it would go a long way if you just apologized."

It was late afternoon, and Zelda and Helena had retired from lunch to a private sitting room to work on embroidering for the baby. Zelda had been desperate for something to do that would distract her from the lingering feelings of the night, but unfortunately, sewing was the kind of work that only occupied the hands. She found herself divulging what had happened at the ball last night despite her better intentions, and for the most part, Helena had only affirmed her thoughts on the matter. Together they had analyzed every word and motion and nuance that she had ever performed in his presence, dissecting every conversation, and neither of them could come up with anything deserving of his ire.

She had been ranting about it when Helena finally interrupted.

"What do I have to apologize for?!" Zelda demanded, looking up from her work.

She hadn't done anything wrong. She was absolutely sure of it.

"I haven't a clue." Helena's face was earnest. "But clearly, he thinks that he's been wronged, and he doesn't feel like he should be the one to take the first step. That means you have to. I honestly believe that if you sincerely apologize for whatever it is that making him so angry and propose an open dialogue in the future, he won't be so horrible to you. He _has_ to want this to work, or he never would have come, right?"

That's what he had said. But she could still recall the barely-concealed loathing in his eyes as they danced, the biting tone that he responded with every time she spoke.

" _Was this arrangement your idea?"_

" _I make an admirable actor."_

" _I didn't realize how much we would have to talk."_

" _Don't you have anything to offer besides questions?!"_

"I don't know about that." Zelda grumbled. She couldn't imagine that anything she had to say now would earn the kindness of the Hero. If she hadn't seen him smile with her own eyes the night before, she wouldn't have believed him capable of it.

"You always see the worst in people," Helena accused.

"Well, you always see the best!"

"I'm not the one with the big problem now, am I?"

Zelda scowled.

"Just think about it," Helena said. "It hurts me to see you so unhappy. If this is what the rest of your life is going to look like, I'm going to Dorian right this minute and telling him to call the whole thing off."

As dear and sweet as her sister-in-law was, she knew exactly where all of Zelda's weak spots were, and she wasn't afraid to exploit them. She knew that the only reason Zelda had agreed to this match in the first place was because it was the best possible option for her country, and that Zelda lived and died for her country. Calling off the match would be the worst thing that could happen for Hyrule, especially now that it had already been announced.

And besides, though she was probably stupid to hope, she had seen a part of him last night that she craved to know personally. If the Hero was sent back to the village he'd come from, she would never again see his wonderful smile or hear the infectious laugh that made her heart stir. That couldn't be.

"You can't send him away, and we both know it."

"I can, and I will." Her voice was resolute. "The Hero is the most ideal person for the job, it's true, but I will not let you be so blinded by duty that you sacrifice any chance you have at happiness. If you think your relationship is so hopeless that you won't even bother trying, we're going to find someone else."

She didn't bother trying to test whether or not she was bluffing, instead sighing as despondently as she could manage. "Very well," she said, "I'll try. I'll talk to him. But I promise you, it won't get either of us anywhere."

"We'll see." Her sister-in-law was smug with the knowledge that Zelda never broke her word.

And she wouldn't break her word. She _would_ talk to him, and try to figure out why he hated her so.

It just wouldn't be as Zelda.

 **o(OXO)o**

Seeking the Hero out was harder than she bargained for.

If she had been herself, all she would have had to do was ask one of the guards stationed by his door if he was in his rooms or not. If he was, she would have knocked. If he wasn't, she would ask where he had gone and sought him out there, or waited for him until he returned.

But she wasn't herself, and being the person that the Hero knew her as presented her with a very new and interesting dilemma—sneaking around her own home. It was plain odd, trying to figure out ways to exploit the people that were duty-bound to keep her safe in order to see a man that absolutely hated her, but she supposed stranger things had happened.

She couldn't recall any to mind at the moment, but that was beside the point.

She had realized very quickly that getting to him from the inside was a fruitless endeavor; even at this time of night, there were too many people walking the hallways and not enough places to hide from them. One glance at her would be enough to know that she didn't belong, and she would be reported to the guards before she had a chance to blink. They would go on high alert fearing an intruder to be in their midst and immediately go to make sure the princess was accounted for, and where would she be then?

This meant that she had to find him from the outside, something that turned out to be much easier in concept than it was in reality. She knew the interior of the castle like the back of her hand, but the outside? Not a chance. Though she was no stranger to climbing the uneven stone of the exterior, it took a good hour before she even found the correct wing to be looking in.

And even when she finally _had_ found it, she had been forced to jump for cover more than once as she heard the patrols across the outer wall approaching, watching exactly for people like her. It made her task of peering in every window to determine her bearings absolutely painstaking, and she was just about to give up when she heard a noise coming from her left, from inside.

She strained her ears.

It was a whistle.

She dropped down from the ledge she had been standing on and sidled over to the open window, careful not to expose herself too much as she gripped the sill. From this place, she could hear the noises coming from inside much better, and as she listened, the whistle morphed into a song.

She recognized it immediately—it was a lullaby as old as Hyrule itself, one that mothers crooned to their colicky children before bedtime. The simple melody was gentle and charming, but nothing about it was truly significant. No, it was the voice that sang the song that made her heart lurch.

It was the Hero.

His voice wasn't deep like perhaps some thought a man's should be, but instead higher and strong, smooth like honey and just as sweet. He maneuvered through the wordless song with practiced ease, and her eyes drifted shut of their own accord as she was swept away by the sound.

She felt something strange ball in her stomach. This felt like such a private, intimate part of the enigmatic man she knew. She ached to tell him how wonderful he sounded, that music was such an important part of her life too, and—

"Hey!"

She started, some deeply-rooted instinct for survival the only thing that prevented her from plummeting to her death. Her eyes flew open, and she was faced with the Hero charging from his bed over to the window.

Goddesses, caught as a sneak. This was not the impression she wasn't to leave!

She let go of the window then, more prepared to deal with two broken legs from the fall than with an explanation of what she was doing. She squeezed her eyes shut again, bracing herself for the pain, and it was for that reason that she didn't realize she wasn't falling until a moment later.

He had grabbed her hand at the last moment, suspending her from the window.

"Let me go!" she demanded, a flush burning her ears. Of all the mortifying things in the world, to be at the mercy of this man!

"I don't think so." When she dared open her eyes, his expression was flat. "I believe you owe me an answer or two. What the hell are you doing?"

Briefly, she considered lying. But what would be the point? "I was listening to you," she said sheepishly. "You have a lovely voice."

There. She had said it.

But he ignored the compliment. "I didn't mean just now. I meant last night, too. Who are you? Why are you jumping through windows and climbing all over the castle in the dark?"

Her mouth twisted. "I can't tell you."

He raised an eyebrow, flexing the grip on her arm that kept her from plummeting. "I don't think you're in a position to be refusing me."

"I'd rather you let me fall."

Friction sizzled between them as they stared each other down, willing the other to relent. But as she already knew, both of them were far too stubborn to be bested by the other.

That was the reason behind their animosity towards each other, she realized suddenly. Control. Both of them needed it desperately, but in this situation so orchestrated by King Dorian and the people of Hyrule, neither of them had it. They had been quite literally forced together, and they took out the resentment they harbored for the helplessness they felt on the other.

The epiphany rocked her. So it _was_ in her power to fix the enmity between them!

"Last night, I ran into you by mistake," she admitted, testing her hypothesis by giving him the answers he wanted. "Tonight, I was seeking you out. I wanted to talk to you."

There was a long moment of nothing but his heated gaze on hers, until finally, he sighed.

"Excellent. Now I don't have to watch you splatter on the ground."

She snorted, relieved not to be met with hostility. "I wouldn't have splattered."

"Regardless, why don't you come inside? I might have saved Hyrule from the twilight, but I don't have divine strength, and I can't support you for much longer."

When she nodded, he hoisted her up until she could gain footing on the windowsill. She clambered inside, dropping to her feet on the cool stone floor.

His bedroom, like all guest quarters in the west wing, was lavishly furnished. A four-poster bed draped with fabrics in Nohansen blue was bookended by two tables made of dark wood. A fireplace was against the opposite wall, surrounded by a set of chairs and a bookcase. There was armoire and a divider for changing just by the door, and a large rug dominated most of the space in the center of the room.

But it was his chest that she was most curious to see—it was propped open and filled to the brim with treasures unlike any she had ever seen.

A bow and arrow. A boomerang. A set of boots that looked to be made out of metal. A pair of some sort of claw contraption, their shiny hands reminiscent of pinchers. More.

"I'm something of a master dungeon crawler by now," he said as he closed the window, following her gaze. "There are all sorts of things to find, if you know where to look. You can touch them, if you'd like; they're not of much use to me beyond sentimentality anymore."

Unconsciously, she felt herself moving forward, falling to her knees before the bounty. She picked up a staff propped up against the side with a delicate grasp. Energy pulsed beneath her fingertips, and she gasped. "Goddesses, it's incredible."

He seemed to find her selection funny. "Actually, that thing's probably the most useless of the lot," he said, taking it from her and raising it high. A ball of green light flared at the top. "It looks the best, I'll give you that, but the only thing it's good for is this."

He pointed it at his nightstand, where a tiny figurine of a baying wolf sat. Its eyes flashed the same green as the rod, and seemingly of its own accord, it relaxed from its position and started careening around the table.

"It animates?"

"Only statues. And only certain kinds of statues, mind you. I'm not entirely sure how it works, but one of the Oocca gave that to me as thanks for my help."

The wolf hopped from its perch and onto the floor. It crossed to where she was kneeling and pawed at her leg, tongue lolling out in a doggish grin.

It reminded her so much of the Hero's smile in his own wolf-form that she nearly began to laugh. But of course, she couldn't reveal that she knew he turned into a wolf. That wasn't precisely common knowledge; as far as what she understood, she was one of only a handful of people that knew.

She cupped her hands and placed them beside it, and eagerly, it climbed on. The same energy that she'd felt on the rod pulsed again in her hands.

"Incredible," she said again.

"But you didn't come here to watch the furniture move." He placed the rod down on the bed, and the wolf froze in place. She set it down.

"No," she agreed. "I wanted to apologize. I behaved abominably last night."

He snorted.

"What?"

"Abominably?" he repeated in her accent with a snigger. "You're just as bad as the Princess!"

Affronted, she grimaced. "Does it intimidate you that I am educated?"

"No," he said after a moment. "It just takes some getting used to. I didn't step foot out of my village until I was seventeen. Of all the people I've met, I have the least experience with nobles, and now I'm expected to just _become_ one. All the fancy clothes, the manners, the _long adjectives_ …I've been in a constant state of culture shock since I walked through the gates. To hear you sound like one of them? It took me by surprise, is all."

How interesting. He felt like an outsider.

She didn't understand. Dorian had gone to painstaking lengths to assure a smooth transition, to make sure the Hero was comfortable. No expense had been spared to make the ball last night wonderful, and though she wasn't there, she was sure that the welcome parade that had been set up to greet him was a sight.

But perhaps that was the problem. He felt strange, being thrust into Hyrule's most elite without so much as a question as to whether he wanted it. He didn't know what he was getting into, and all the finery that the palace had to offer didn't suit him.

Strange. But, she supposed she wasn't in any place to understand. She had been raised in the castle atmosphere, and she had known nothing else.

But if she couldn't empathize, she could certainly sympathize. She could make his transition easier and show him that, despite all the scrutiny, life here could be enjoyable.

"Does that mean you accept my apology, then?"

He grinned. "So long as you promise not to use words like 'abominably' in my presence anymore, yes. Does that mean you will come to see me more often, then?"

That wasn't a good idea. She had never interacted with another person in this disguise before, and especially not anyone who knew her as the Princess. There were too many ways she could slip up. There were too many things that this person that she masqueraded as couldn't know, couldn't be. He could tell her something as this alter-ego and she could thoughtlessly mention it as Zelda, or vice versa. He might soon learn to see through her disguise, and he would hate her all over again for deceiving him.

But the idea of having a clean slate, of being able to speak freely to him without repercussion…it was nearly intoxicating. She wanted to know him so badly. She longed to see his smile, to hear his laugh. She knew he would never sing around Zelda, and the thought of never hearing his voice again saddened her deeply.

He heard the indecision in her silence.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot yesterday," he said, and her heart ached. They did; he didn't know how much she wished she could turn back time and fix the animosity between him and Zelda. But it was too late for the two of them. Him and this disguise, however? There was a world of opportunity. "I'm Link. It's very nice to meet you. And you are?"

He held out his hand, and she made up her mind.

There was no other way. If there was, she would have thought of it.

"Sheik," she whispered, sealing her fate.

 **o(OXO)o**

 **So we finally get the Sheik name drop, and a pledge to get together! Ooohhh….**

 **Leave a word, if you would! It's very exciting to see the review count shoot up, and when I'm feeling uninspired, the review section is always the thing that kicks me in the butt and gets me going again.**

 **See you guys next time!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm not even going to pretend like I have an explanation for why this took so long. I have struggled with this chapter for almost two months now, for no conceivable reason other than the awkward phase in the plot that it is. I've written and rewritten, deleted and shifted and changed, and finally this morning I decided that enough was enough and wrote it all in one sitting.**

 **I am satisfied. I hope you will be, too.**

 **Thank you for all the love and support. It truly means the world!**

 **Check out my tumblr, Alyssawritesalot, for more on this and other Zelda stuff!**

 **Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

 **~Alyssa**

 **o(OXO)o**

The sharp clang of steel against steel filled the courtyard, and the group observing the two players applauded politely at their show of skill.

They were taking their lunch outside in the gardens, and after a short conversation about his exploits during the Twilight War, one of the noblemen had challenged the Hero to a display. He had protested, but after much encouragement, had agreed to do a demonstration. After divesting himself of his jacket and accepting Zelda's handkerchief as a token of favor, he took his place across the gardens began to fight.

Zelda had seen that look of determination on his face many times—when she had sent him on his adventure, when she battled with him across Hyrule field, when he crossed swords with Ganondorf—but never mingled with the playful countenance that she only ever seen once as Sheik. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

Dorian was enthralled. Diaval was paying attention, for once. Even Helena, who harbored great distaste for anything violent, had to profess that there was beauty and fluidity in the way that the Hero maneuvered with his sword.

"He's very good," she whispered behind her fan, and Zelda felt an unusual swell of pride.

"He is," she agreed.

He was good and funny and smart. He was _hers_ by promise, and would soon be hers by law.

Even so, she still couldn't decide if last night had been a mistake, because when she was Sheik, she wasn't _herself_.

They had stayed awake talking well into the morning about inconsequential things. He had been perfectly honorable, maintaining a fair distance and keeping his eyes were they belonged despite the suit that clung to her every curve. It seemed he had every intention of keeping his word to the Princess. He was just lonely, he said. He longed for someone to confide in.

And he had, without reservation. He told her what he loved best about his home in Ordon and what he hated most about Castletown. He spoke of the children that he had watched grow up and the animals he tended. He shared little anecdotes about country life. By the time he stopped, the moon was halfway through its decent, and he looked to her expectantly.

But she found she had nothing to share. What could she tell him, after all, of her childhood in the city he so despised?

He tried to pry, but she was resolute. She didn't want to talk about where she was from, and she said as much once, twice, three times, her voice raising louder every time. Thoroughly rebuffed, he'd suggested they call it a night. She made her escape into the cold night, knowing for sure that she could not return if she didn't want this repeated.

But now…now, she wasn't certain. She had seen a different side of him, been given more than just a taste of the person that she knew he was, and now, unfortunately, she found herself addicted.

The Hero swung high, and when he was met again with resistance, grinned. "You're not half-bad, Harkner."

"I should think not," the young man replied, his smile equally as bright, "But if a hero such as you can be bested by the likes of me, perhaps Hero is a bit of a misnomer."

Their blades clashed again, and the Hero threw his back his and laughed.

The fight continued in this manner for some time, joking and hurtling insults in between truly spectacular feats of skill. When one man seemed to be gaining the upper hand, they were thwarted at the last minute.

Finally, after maneuvering through a complicated parry, the Hero dropped to the ground, kicked to the side, and swept the legs out from under his opponent. A moment later he stood erect, the tip of his blade pressed against the heaving chest of poor Harkner.

"Defeated," he proclaimed, smugness radiating from the tips of his toes to every hair on his head. The group gathered erupted in applause.

Harkner dropped his rapier and held his hands up with a laugh. "Surrendered," he replied, and the Hero offered him a hand up. Harkner clasped him on the shoulder.

"If I had thought for a moment you would be stupid enough to risk a maneuver such as that, I would have rethought my defense," he chuckled, shaking out his long, black hair from the ponytail it was confined in. "It seems as though I have overestimated you."

The Hero only laughed. "Calculated risk leads to greater reward. I didn't earn the title Hero for nothing, it seems."

"Point conceded. I shall not engage you in a battle of wits, or swords for that matter, anytime soon."

The men rejoined the party, Harkner going to sit with his wife and the Hero coming to stand before Zelda. Sweat plastered his hair to his face, but his eyes were exhilarated, his skin glowing. She had never seen him this genuinely happy in her presence.

He took her hand, and she wondered if he felt the newfound sparks, too.

"My dear," he murmured, bowing low and drawing his lips across her knuckles.

She suddenly felt quite warm. Her stomach knotted.

They could go on like this for the rest of their lives—openly affectionate in public and distant at best behind closed doors. If she stopped seeing him as Sheik now, left alone the only freedom she'd ever had in this world, that would be that.

But she would be removed from his private life altogether, and every touch they would ever share would be for show. Every smile would be pretend. Every laugh, forced.

But wasn't it another form of pretending, if she kept up this ruse of someone she was not? Wouldn't it be dangerous for her reputation if the Hero was ever caught spending time with another woman?

She wanted to care, but didn't. The urge to know him was so overwhelming that she could scarcely breathe. And like the weak-willed, pathetic soul that she was, she would go back to see him again tonight.

If he wanted to know about her, she'd make things up. Anything to have his company.

He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and smoothed out the wrinkles, handing it back to her with a grin.

"Luck's favor seems to follow yours, your highness," he said. "Thank you."

"The pleasure was mine," she replied, "But I cannot take credit for your skill. You were incredible."

"Very entertaining," added Harkner's wife, a sweet thing of twenty who clung to her husband's arm like he was all that was good in the world. Their match had been one for love. "It's not often William meets his match."

Harkner rolled his eyes, but grinned. "We should train together. I should like to do that again."

The Hero bowed his head in agreement. "If you say."

He offered Zelda his arm, and she took it. They strode away from the group gathered, into the thicket of trees that grew along the south side of the castle.

He dropped his arm as soon as they were out of their line of sight, turning to face her with a grimace.

"Sorry if 'my dear' was too thick," he said, "I didn't mean to."

She shook her head. "No, it was fine. It was good. I'm sure they're all convinced of our happiness."

"Hopefully." He looked away, down the path that lead to the castle doors. "Do you think we could pretend to sneak off, and I could go back to my rooms to pen some letters? My family must be worried sick; they haven't heard from me in weeks."

She swallowed. "No, no, go ahead. I'm feeling quite tired myself."

He nodded once, turning away, but she stopped him with a touch on the arm. Even through her gloves and the thick shirt he wore, she could feel the heat sizzle between them.

It was only a pity that he didn't seem to feel the same.

"Truly, it was an excellent show."

She had to wonder if he understood that she did not speak of his swordsmanship.

 **o(OXO)o**

The knock on his window that night seemed to startle him.

The Hero glanced up from the book he was reading with a start, nearly jumping from his seat when he was it was her. He crossed the room to let her in with ungodly haste.

She swallowed despite herself.

He wasn't wearing a shirt.

"I didn't think you were going to come back," he admitted and he gave her a hand down. She tried very hard not to be distracted by the lean muscles of his shoulders, but it was futile.

He was just as fit as she had imagined underneath his clothes.

"I didn't think I was coming back," she answered, jumping lithely to the floor. She removed her hand from his and balled it into a fist to stop herself from reaching out and stroking the planes of his chest.

He was an engaged man. Zelda's, not Sheik's, regardless of how he felt for the Princess at this particular moment. She couldn't touch, wouldn't touch.

But she could still look at him. His torso, his stomach, toned and strong and covered with scars…

He must have caught her gawking, because a moment later his ears went red. "I didn't realize I was going to have company. I'll get dressed—"

"No. It's fine," she cut him off, gesturing down to a particularly ugly looking gash decorating his side. Though it was the pale pink of a long-healed scar, the flesh was still puckered, bumpy like it had never quite come together the right way. It took her off guard. "I was just...I saw—What happened to you?"

The Hero raised a brow. "I had a nice day, thank you for asking."

It was her turn to flush. What a personal question to ask someone she barely knew! "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's not something you see every day. I know." He went to his wardrobe and extracted a shirt, pulling it over his head before continuing. "I wasn't always a great swordsman; I barely swung a stick around before I left my village. You learn the hard way."

"I can't imagine," she said. "How did you even get involved?"

"Some of the village children were kidnapped by Moblins. I was the healthiest boy in Ordon. It was go, or never see them again." He paused, considering. "I've found myself in that situation a lot—being the only one who can possibly do something without catastrophic consequences. Saving them was one of them. Going to fight a supreme evil before I even reached majority or seeing the end of the world as I knew it, that was another one."

He had never cast being the Hero in such a light. "You didn't want to do that?"

"No. Who would?" His smile turned grim. "I do a lot of things I don't want to for the sake of my country."

She heard the allusion, and tried to disguise her wince.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

He shifted, running a hand through his hair. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday. I didn't mean to scare you off."

"I know. I'm sorry as well, for being so cold. I just…no one's asked me about my past before that way. I don't like to talk about it."

His expression changed to something pitiful. "But how can I know you?"

 _You can't,_ her heart cried out, _you'll never know me, no matter how much we talk_ , _because this isn't me! You hate who I am!_

"Ask me about things that matter now," she said instead, because she would rather give up this persona forever than have him be alienated by it, too. "Not ancient history."

He smiled a little. "What's your favorite color?"

"Purple," she told him. "What's yours?"

"Green. When's your favorite time of day?"

She glanced out the window, watching the waning moon glimmer. "Right now, when I can come here. How do you take your tea?"

"Black, with three sugars," he said, and she snorted.

"Three?"

"I don't like bitter things!" he defended himself, looking affronted.

"You like me," she pointed out.

His grin was more genuine, now. "You're not bitter. You're just _secretive._ Like a chestnut, I'll peel you back until I find the sweet interior."

She wrinkled her nose. "Somehow I don't like that analogy."

"Sorry," he shrugged, wholly unapologetic. "What kind of flowers do you prefer?"

"Daffodils smell the nicest. Who's your best friend?"

He paused, his smile falling.

"Sorry, I—"

"No, it's fine." He looked away. "Her name was Midna."

The Twilight Princess. Zelda knew her, had befriended her. She'd watched as she'd broken the barrier between their two kingdoms for good.

She also knew that she had stood by the Hero on every part of his adventure. She'd been his companion. She could still remember the hurt in his eyes when Midna walked away from him for good.

"Was?"

He swallowed. "She's gone. After I saved—after it was over, I mean, she went back home, and she's never coming back. I'm never going to see her again." His voice cracked on the last word, and his gaze fell to the floor.

It was a kind of hurt that she couldn't possibly begin comprehend.

"Did you love her?"

"That's not something I'm willing to talk about," he said sharply, and she bit her lip, thoroughly rebuffed.

"You don't have to," she said carefully, "But sometimes…sometimes you need to, if you're ever going to find the absolution I think you need. There are different kinds of scars than the ones on the skin. They don't heal as easily."

"Absolution," he scoffed, turning away. "What do you know about that?"

She had been forced to come to terms with failing her country, the people that her family had been sworn to protect for centuries. She had been captured and imprisoned and possessed. She had said goodbye to the man that saved her country and wondered for years why he had left.

She was marrying someone who hated her.

"More than you think."

He turned around, icy eyes flashing to meet hers.

"Who are you?"

The sudden question took her off guard, but the way he looked at her was astonishing. His gaze was full of something so painfully unexplainable, so full of burning longing and unanswered questions. It struck her how much she hurt him last night when she left, and she was dumbfounded.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, trying to settle on her words.

"Your friend," she said finally, "Someone to talk to."

"Is that what we are?" he demanded, "Friends?"

She understood his reluctance; it wasn't the word she would have chosen, either. She was too distant to be his friend, and she always would be. Closeness to him was something that she craved, but there was no way to be close without revealing her secret.

She didn't want to leave, though.

She wanted to stay with him, and unlike when he was with Zelda, she knew that he wanted her to stay.

"Yes," she said firmly. "We're friends. Allies. Two people so incredibly out of their depth in a city set on eating them alive."

Just like the night before, she held out her hand. He crossed the room to take it, and they shook. His grip was strong and the heat she felt when she touched him earlier was back with a vengeance.

She felt herself blush, and thanked all three of the Goddesses that her mask covered her cheeks.

"That sounds about right to me," he smiled. "Just…please promise me that you won't go without saying goodbye."

Her grip tightened.

She couldn't have left now if she tried.

 **o(OXO)o**

 **-wipes forehead- I'm so glad that's over.**

 **Chapters SHOULD be coming MUCH MORE regularly after this. I have a lot of the next couple plotted out in my head, and a lot of scenes already done that were rejected for chapter four.**

 **Please leave a word, and come visit me on tumblr! I love talking with everyone!**

 **See you guys next time!**


	6. Chapter 6

**But hark! My college essays are completely finished, and by all means, we must celebrate! Let us sing, friends! As a present to you, an elusive chapter!**

 **Hope your 2015 was filled with smiles and laughter, and I hope your 2016—the year I graduate!—will be all the better. Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! They truly mean the world, and I promise now that things have settled down a bit, I'll be writing much faster.**

 **Adieu, and Happy New Year!**

 **~Alyssa**

 **o(OXO)o**

Zelda pulled her legs to her chest, curling up and resting her head on her knees.

She had messed up royally.

The last few nights had been incredible. Magical. Instead of wandering aimlessly across the roofs of Castletown, she spent her midnight hours talking. She heard his stories, and told some of her own. She smiled. She laughed. She found that her days passed too slowly, and her every free thought was in anticipation for her time with Link.

She resisted a groan.

 _Link_. He was Link now, not the Hero. He was so much more than that. Saving Hyrule had nothing to do with the insightful, considerate, absolutely _droll_ personality that he possessed. He didn't start and begin with a sword; anything but. He was an explorer. He was a musician. He was her friend. They had come to know each other.

Except he didn't know _her_ at all. He only knew Sheik.

What scared her was that that was good enough for her.

Zelda was the Princess, the responsible one, the lady with a thousand burdens and limitations and expectations. There was a way she needed to act around everyone, at all times, and she could tell that Link thought her cold. The door to a deeper relationship had closed the first night he arrived. He had already built his opinion of Zelda in his head, and it would take much to change it.

With Sheik, however, she could be the person she was without boundaries or fear. She didn't have to be ladylike; she could do whatever she pleased and no one could tell her otherwise. When she was Sheik, she only belonged to herself. Link saw that, and Link knew.

It felt good to know the he enjoyed her company when she was the most unfiltered version of herself. It meant that he truly did care for her.

But it was dangerous. One slip, and she would lose his trust forever. She was wise enough to understand that what she was doing could very possibly lead to disaster. Somehow, though, she was stupid enough not to care. If this is what it took to see Link as he was, this is what she would do.

She hopped up from her bed, checking the lock on her door before crossing the room to her balcony. There, she raised her arms over her head and let her magic wash over her as she brought them down, shifting her nightgown to the suit that had become her second skin.

Adjusting her mask once, she opened up the balcony doors and launched herself into the night.

The trip to his bedroom was easy as breathing by now. She knew the guard rotation by heart, and sidling the outer walls of the east wing to get to his window became as familiar to her feet as the rooftops of Castletown. She made it across the castle in record time, and when she slid into his room, he was waiting for her.

He stood from his seat by the fire, cerulean eyes lighting up at the sight of her. "Good of you to finally come, my lady." he drawled, bowing low. "Here I thought you wouldn't show!"

Sheik laughed, her pensive mood leaving her at once as she dropped from the sill and curtsied as well as she could without skirts. "And stand you up? I would never!"

Over the last few nights, they had shifted from tentative strangers to an easy familiarity. She never would have guessed from the way he treated Zelda, but the Hero was a very friendly, very likable man. His smiles were effortless. His laughter was infectious. When he spoke to her, it was like there was no one else in the world he would rather be with. He made her feel warm and safe and cared for in a way that no one else had.

It made it painful to leave when the sun began to rise, and even more so when she had to wake up in the morning to spend her days with him cold and distant again.

She had known it would be like this when she decided to continue the arrangement, though. It was a price she was willing to pay. If she saw him happy sometimes, nights were enough.

He smiled at her remark, retaking his seat. "How was your day?"

She leapt over the back of the couch to take her place beside him, sitting cross-legged. "Long."

"For me as well," he sighed. "The Princess and I went on a parade through the city; it was awful."

Their official debut as a couple to the commonfolk had gone as well as it could have. Though it hadn't been her first choice in announcement—parades were long and tiresome and _public_ —Dorian had reminded her how long it had been since the last one, and she understood the necessity of it all.

He did, too, and they had both played their parts well. From the moment they boarded the open carriage that took them through the streets, there were smiles and waving and laughter all around. He had even kissed her hand once or twice, much of the delight to the crowds. The people of Castletown adored seeing their Hero matched with their Princess; for them, it was like seeing a storybook come alive.

She supposed that from a distance, it was all rather romantic. To the casual observer it must seem just like a fairytale.

A quiet part of her wondered what all the people of Hyrule would think if they saw the Hero walk away with her without so much of a word as soon as they were safely within the castle walls.

"I thought the parade was wonderful," she said. "As it happens, I was there."

"Really?" he asked. "I thought your kind didn't make a habit out of coming out in the day."

The Hero had clearly grown up on the same silly stories that most children in Hyrule had. Last night he had wondered aloud if she would be burnt by the sun.

She couldn't suppress her laughter. "I'm a Sheikah, not a bat."

"Then why is it you only come during the night?"

"Because I have important business to attend to during the day," she said mysteriously.

He raised a brow. "Like watching the parade?"

"A necessary evil, but part of my job nonetheless."

He nodded. "I see."

They carried on in this way for some time. Their banter was effortless, as it always was. They had exceptionally compatible humors. When Sheik was dry, Link was willing to play along. When Link was witty, Sheik could never stop herself from laughing. The atmosphere became warm with mutual respect and comfort.

It was too easy to forget that she was wearing a mask, sometimes.

Somewhere over the course of the night he ended up on the floor, his head lying beside her legs on the couch as he looked up at the ceiling. He had been tossing an apple from the bowl on his table as they talked, barely needing to cast a glance in its direction to catch it again.

Throw, catch. Throw, catch. Throw, catch.

"No opinion, then?"

She started, having become so transfixed on the fruit that she'd missed what he had said previously. "Sorry?"

"I asked what you thought of the Princess."

Her entire body went stiff. In all their hours of conversation, Link had never once brought up Zelda.

It was a blessing that she wore a mask, because her face would have given up the entire charade right then had it not been covered. She swallowed hard, tripping over her words in her haste to answer.

"I…she's the Princess," she said quickly. "I don't know her."

He waved an exasperated hand. "Yes, yes, but what's your impression of her? You've seen her at enough of those events to have some grasp."

"I…she…" Her heart hammered in her chest. "She's very pretty."

"Yes," Link snorted. "And if that was everything I wanted in a wife, I would be the happiest man alive."

There was an edge to his voice that rubbed her the wrong way.

"Are you saying you don't want to marry her?"

"No," he said quickly, too quickly. "You just…you didn't answer my question."

She looked down, meaning to consider his face, but his eyes were locked on the ground.

"I think she's tired," she said earnestly, resting a gloved hand on his shoulder. "I think, however you feel about the situation, she feels the same way."

 _Understand_ , she begged, the unspoken plea hovering in the air between them. _It's me. Understand._

But Link only stood, running a tired hand through his hair as he walked towards his bed. "It's getting late." His voice was all gravel. "I should probably get to bed."

The rejection in his tone stung. She got up as well, taking a backwards step towards the window. "Am I coming back tomorrow?"

He glanced back at her, the expression on his face absurd. "Of course," he asked, "Why wouldn't you?"

She swallowed hard, all the words she wanted to say lingering on her tongue.

 **o(OXO)o**

Without meaning to, they fell into a routine.

It was a revolving cycle, and soon the monotony was enough that her days became tolerable as her mind became numb. They were in love in public. Cordial with family. Distant when alone. As the days passed and the pair of them fell into the same production of lies over and over, she started to feel a sense of cooperation between them. Though it was nothing compared to the ease in which they talked when she was Sheik, she could tell that he was beginning to trust Zelda. They were working together for the same goal, and for a time, all was well.

Or so she thought.

Three or so weeks had passed without conflict when she finally saw him snap.

She was in the middle of regurgitating a particularly nauseating story about the day they had met to a group of nobles over lunch when he abruptly stood, his hands balling into fists. "Excuse me," he said gruffly, crossing to exit the room with the upmost haste.

The door closed behind him just a bit louder than it should have.

Zelda laughed—albeit awkwardly—and looked to her guests with a simpering smile.

"The weather hasn't been agreeing with him as of late," she said, and as luck would have it, that was all that was needed to excuse his behavior. One of the noblewomen in attendance shared a similar anecdote about her husband, and all was smoothed over.

Inside, she was fuming. Though not partners in the way they professed, they were still partners in this façade. If they were anything, they were a team. She couldn't believe that he would drop his part so obviously, and in front of important company, no less! Who did he think he was?

She would be hypocritical, however, if she chased after him now. She would have to survive through the rest of this lunch on her own.

An hour later, once the plates were cleared and the tea was served, she excused herself. It was easy to do—after so long a time of contributing nothing to the conversation, she was easily forgotten amongst the gossip flung back and forth.

She stalked down the hallway and into the east wing like a person possessed. The knock on his door was sharp.

"Yes?" his voice from inside called, and her hands balled into fists.

"Please let me in, _dearest_." The hall was deserted, and she could let the vitriol seep into her tone.

For a long minute, there was silence, and she wondered if he would just ignore her. A moment later, though, the door flung open, and she was met with an obviously agitated Hero.

She strode inside and waited for him to close the door behind him before whirling around, throwing her hands out in frustration.

"Would you like to explain to me what the _Hell_ that was?" she demanded, and he crossed his arms.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her language.

"You won't get it," she snapped. "Answer my question. Why in the name of the Goddesses would you just _walk out_?"

His posture became very defensive, and the warm eyes she had come to know grew icy. "Would you have rather me punched a hole through the wall in the attendance of five members of the gentry?" he countered, "Because that's what would have happened if I didn't get out of there!"

She didn't care what made him upset. What mattered was taking care of it in a civilized and appropriate manner. He wasn't some teenager whose emotions raged out of control! He was a grown man, soon to be a Prince of Hyrule, and he needed to act like it! "You have to get your temper under control!"

"My temper _is_ under control!"

"Really?" she laughed, the sound caustic. "It doesn't seem like it to me!"

"Just the fact that I'm standing in here speaking to you instead of throwing a fit in the foyer says otherwise. I felt myself losing it, and removed myself from the situation before I could! Now, are you finished chastising me, _mother_?"

" _Mother?_ " She was livid now. "You acted a fool! It was mortifying, and now you're blaming me for telling you so? There was absolutely no reason for you to behave like a five year old!"

How could he act this way? After everything they'd agreed on, everything they had done for the past month? She didn't understand.

"You don't understand!" His words echoed her thoughts, and his hands fisted in his hair. "You've made up these stories, and you tell them over and over and I can't _take it!_ It's a lie! The entirety of our life together, every last moment that anyone has heard about, is the exact opposite of true!"

"What would you rather me do?" she demanded, "Tell of your charming exploits in avoiding me as much as possible?"

"Better that than what you've been doing!"

"Then we might as well call off this wedding now! The whole point of it is to satisfy the people. If they don'thear about how happy we are and it doesn't distract them, you might as well pack up your things and go back to your village, because I am _certainly_ not going to waste the rest of my life chasing after your sullen, disagreeable person!"

He had nothing to say to that. She could hear his teeth gnashing together as he clenched his jaw, and she was satisfied in the fact that he knew she was right.

"Think on it," she ordered. "This is only the most binding commitment either of us will make in our lives. If you truly hate what this has become as much as you say, perhaps it isn't worth doing."

She was hurt; there was no denying it. Though she was more than capable of separating her relationship with him as Sheik and with him and Zelda, she had thought that their relationship as fiancés had progressed to the point of mutual understanding at the very least.

But it seemed as though she'd been deluding herself. Any comradery between Link and Zelda was wishful thinking on her part. He only tolerated her for the sake of company; whatever progress she'd thought they were making was clearly nonexistent.

The look of absolute loathing that she was faced with now—one that she hadn't seen in so long!—made her want to die.

She swallowed hard, storming over to the door and lingering with her hand on the knob for just a moment, waiting for him to contradict the hateful words she'd put into his mouth. To say that he had simply had a moment of weakness, and that he was sorry for his outburst, and that he would try harder. That he wanted to make this work more than anything. That that he didn't hate this, that he didn't hate her.

He didn't say a word.

He never gave the acceptance that she craved to Zelda. That was something reserved for Sheik.

It wasn't good enough. She couldn't do it anymore.

She slammed the door hard behind her, throwing propriety straight to Hell as she flew through the halls. She swallowed a sob, trying her hardest to pretend like the tears on her cheeks weren't those of betrayal.

But she couldn't even convince herself.

 **-chants-  
More angst! More angst! More angst!**

 **Leave a word, if you would~**


	7. Chapter 7

**I have excuses, but you don't want to hear them X)**

 **Hello, lovelies, I'm back. I know it's been unforgivably long, and I can't promise that it won't happen again, but I will promise that I will finish this story one way or another. I'm about to become a full time college student with two majors and a minor, and I really have no idea what that entails yet but I expect the workload to be considerable. Just like what happened before, school work always comes before writing. But I won't let you down, promise.**

 **Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. It's my favorite one yet!**

 **~Alyssa**

 **o(OXO)o**

She was transformed and out her window into the city in an instant.

Though her eyes watered and her heart wrenched, her limbs didn't dare betray her as she swung up into the trees, climbing through on her way to the wall. She stuck the landing clean, not even bothering to look around before throwing herself down onto the nearest rooftop on the other side. Her feet stung on impact, and she sucked in a breath, lucidity flashing across her conscious for a moment.

It was hardly sunset. It was still bright as day outside, and here she was, flitting across the gardens! A note of panic struck her as she immediately fell into a crouch, glancing behind her at the great, looming wall.

It was high enough that no one would see her here. Hopefully, the roof was wide enough that no one would see her from the ground, either.

She let herself slump back onto the tile, feet falling from under her as her bottom came to rest.

It was there that she finally allowed herself to cry.

She buried her face in her knees, sobbing freely. She wept for what seemed like hours, bitter tears for the mistakes she had made and how they had come to destroy her. She was a fool. She had deluded herself for months. Link didn't care a bit for Zelda. Her feelings didn't matter to him. Her heart, though it would soon be promised to him alone forever, was meaningless in his hands.

He did not—and would never—love her for who she was.

The thought stopped her in her tracks—love. She didn't love him. Did she? She thought she could have, but not anymore. How could she, when he treated her so coldly, when he only responded to her when she was a mystery maiden behind a mask? He only cared for the idea of her.

But Goddesses, the way he treated her when she was Sheik. The way he was able to smile and laugh and speak of careless things. The way his head rested on her knee sometimes when he sat by her feet on the floor, the way he closed his eyes and hummed when she ran his fingers through his hair. The way he joked and the way he teased and the glint in his eyes when he told her stories of his adventures. Every memory twisted in her gut with the idea of what could have been, if he would just open up to her as Zelda.

But he would never open up to Zelda. She wasn't good enough.

He didn't care for the match. He told her as much when he hadn't refuted her words.

It was for both of them, then, that she had to end this. She couldn't let him go through with something that would make him so miserable. She couldn't let her heart become fully engaged, only to be let down.

He deserved better. Though she knew with certainty no man would ever make her feel the way he did with every unguarded moment they shared, _she_ deserved better. They would not be wed. He would go back to the south, to his farm where he belonged. She would find another, much more agreeable man of low standing to suit her purposes.

And he would never see Sheik again.

It was with the realization of this resolution that she finally found the strength to cease her tears. She took a shuddering breath, swiping at her sore eyes as she uncurled her legs. When the world finally came back into focus, she knew she had stayed out far longer than she had intended to.

By the moon, it was well into the night.

There would be hell to pay for this tomorrow when she needed a clear head to guide her more than ever. But she supposed it couldn't be helped.

She stood on shaky legs with every intention of jumping across to the castle wall. She took a step back in order to give herself a start, and with a quick glance at the top of the wall to be sure that the guards weren't alert, she started to run.

She was quite suddenly thrown off her equilibrium, however, by a resounding _BANG_ directly underneath her.

She stumbled just on the edge of the roof, her arms flailing wildly as she struggled to regain her balance.

"Thrice _DAMNED_ ," came an exceedingly familiar voice from below.

As she regained her footing, she blanched. Though she hadn't known it possible, he sounded even angrier than he had when she saw him last.

"Farore save me, _what am I doing wrong_ —" Another crash.

A look over the edge confirmed what she already knew. There, in an alley between the roof she stood on and the castle wall, was her intended, ranting to no one as he threw whatever he could get his hands on at the stone in front of him. Though he was two stories below, she knew by his wild hair and ripped overcoat that he was not in his senses. There was no way he could be. She had never seen him lash out like this, and she had seen him at his worst.

He picked up a dilapidated old stool, and with a swear that brought a blush to her cheeks, flung it at the wall. Splinters flew all around him, and he kicked one of the legs out of his way. He was about to make similar work of a much larger crate when she finally gathered the strength to speak up, coughing to clear her throat.

"…Link?" she called, and he froze in place. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"I don't need your advice," Link groaned, though he threw the crate down at his feet. "Get away from here."

"I would, but I find myself worried for your health." Yes, that was it. She coughed again, swinging down off of the roof and onto one of the sills of the windows below. She climbed down into the alley, wrinkling her nose as she came close. He reeked of liquor. "Are you quite all right?"

The alleyway was dark, but she could still see his face. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were pathetic. "I'm fine. Go away."

"Unlikely." Her voice was flat. "You're drunk."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm _not_."

"Do you make it a habit of destroying public property, then?"

His shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand down his haggard face. "All right, so maybe I am a little."

She crossed her arms, thoroughly unimpressed. "I didn't know you drink."

"I don't, normally." He sat down on the crate, resting his head in a hand. "I don't know what came over me. _Farore._ " He kicked angrily at the ground.

"What?"

"I screwed up," he said thickly, voice muffled. "So bad."

Something deep in her gut wrenched. She said nothing, bracing herself to hear the words she dreaded.

"I saved Hyrule, and now it's all going to go to Hell because I can't get my thrice-damned act together."

Well, that wasn't what she was expecting.

"What?"

His gaze was fixed on the ground. "The princess and I had a falling out about the stupidest thing I can think of. She's usually so…so calm. But not today. I've never seen her so angry."

"I am quite sure it was deserved," she bit out before she could stop herself.

"It was," he nodded sullenly. "I abandoned her for supper. It was probably very embarrassing. But Farore, Sheik, I couldn't take it anymore! Just when I think we're getting to a place beyond the lie we've been living, she brings it right back up!"

"You don't love her, do you?"

"Of course I don't!" His hands fisted in his hair. "But at least years ago, during the war, we were friends! She could tell the truth about that. She doesn't need to lie about how we met, or the interests we share, or our hope for the future. That's all the truth. That's all we have, honestly, and I would think she'd want the whole world to know about it. But she doesn't. She doesn't care about the truth."

She did care. Goddesses, she cared. But how could she give pieces of her heart to complete strangers to feed their need for gossip? She had been raised to keep the genuine parts of herself at bay to protect what little she had.

But he didn't understand.

"Perhaps the truth isn't what the people want," she proposed, her voice suddenly just as thick as his.

"Of course it's not, or we wouldn't be getting married in the first place." He heaved a sigh. "I just wish…I wish we could work together. I wish she would hear my piece without getting angry. She stormed out before we could even have a chance at talking."

"Well, why didn't you follow her?" she snapped, tears pricking at her eyes.

"I did! I was banging on her door for a quarter hour. She didn't say a word."

Because she was on a rooftop, crying that he hadn't followed her. Because she thought he didn't care, even though he very much did.

Oh, what a mess she had made of things.

"I suppose she's confused," she said after a long second, swiping at her eyes before she could do something stupid like cry again.

" _I'm_ confused. Every bit of my honor says I have to marry her. My country needs peace. It's already been decided. And I want her to be happy, it's just—" He cut himself off.

"It's just what?" she managed to ask.

"I want to be happy, too."

That was what she had been waiting to hear.

"If you can't be happy with her, tell her." She tried in vain to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. "Tell her, and leave."

"That's what kills me, Sheik. I _could_ be happy with her. Just…so many things got in the way."

It was the same conclusion she'd come to herself. If they were just Zelda and Link, just two people with no expectations or responsibility or titles, they could have been so happy it was agonizing to think about. They were so perfectly suited for the other; the people they were at their cores fit together like soulmates. When they were together at night with nothing but potential stretched out in front of them, they were everything she could possibly ask for.

But they weren't just Zelda and Link. She was a Princess who needed to marry well to prevent a revolt. He was a Hero who the people idolized. They had to deal with the pressure of being shoved together and the whispers of gossip and a stream of lies so long that it was strangling them. Their relationship couldn't survive the strain. What relationship could?

It was for the better that they ended this now, before the wedding.

That meant, however desperately it pained her, that she had to end things with Sheik, too.

"Well…I've been doing some thinking. I—I can't be friends with you anymore," she said after a long silence.

"I can't be friends with you anymore, either." He ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes with a bitter expression. "I've tried. But that's not good enough."

Heat rushed to her cheeks. "I thought you were upset because you can't seem to reconcile with the princess."

"Why do you think I can't reconcile with the princess?" He stood, crossing the width of the alleyway in two long strides. He pointed a finger in her direction. "It's because of you. Farore forgive me, I can't stop thinking of you. You're consuming me, Sheik."

She suddenly found it quite hard to breathe.

"I want to see your face," he said, pulling down the fabric that covered her all the way past her chin. The backs of his fingers traced the path of her bare cheek and came to rest under her chin. His touch was silk, and she nearly shuddered. "I want to know who you are."

She was powerless under the intensity of his gaze. "You know me."

"I didn't know how beautiful you were until this very moment." His voice was hoarse. "There's so many things I don't know about you."

He took a step closer, and what little distance remained between them disappeared. She could feel his warmth through the thin fabric of her suit, could feel his heart pounding heavily against hers. "And I mean to know you in every way."

Her hands found his shoulders, but whether they were there to push him away or to make sure he never left, she wasn't sure. His face dipped dangerously close to hers, and her head spun.

Just an hour ago she had made up her mind in never seeing him again as Sheik. She was certain that only harm could come from spending time with him this way. She was not willing to keep up the deception when it so easily blew up in her face, and resolved to end their engagement because it was better for the both of them.

But nothing was good if it meant she wasn't able to do this.

She had finally gotten her thoughts and future in a semblance of order, but within a minute he had taken all her plans and reduced them to ash.

Nayru, this was wrong. He was half-drunk. She was a wreck. But somehow nothing mattered more than the heat of his hand on her waist and the smoldering look in his eyes.

"The Princess," she murmured, unable to find it in herself to protest any further.

His gaze flickered from her lips back up to her eyes, his voice husky and warm and wanting. "To hell with the Princess," he rasped.

And then his lips were on hers, and she was undone.

She had been kissed before. When she was young there had been a rather long line of admirers eager to please their princess, and she was more than happy to let them. But all of them were nothing more than passing fancies, and when they touched her, it was with a fragility that frustrated her to no end.

Link, it seemed, did not have such qualms.

He kissed her with such a fervor, such an intensity that she would have collapsed were in not for the wall of the alley at her back. In a moment he had ignited such a fire in her, and everywhere he touched seemed to burn. There were no more problems, no more responsibilities, no more doubts or tears, just him and her and his all-consuming kiss.

The need for air compelled her to pull away, but he did not seem willing to allow his lips to break contact with her skin. He kissed down her jaw and latched onto her neck as low as her suit allowed, and a small noise escaped her lips.

Her fingers clutched at his hair, her chest heaving.

"Is this thing glued to your skin?" he rasped, trying and failing to pull the collar of her suit down.

"It's magic," she managed, and she could tell it wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. She gasped as his teeth scraped the juncture where suit met skin, sucking the tender flesh into his mouth in the moment next.

"Promise me you won't leave me again," he murmured into her neck.

"Mmph," she sighed, but it wasn't what he wanted.

"Say you won't go." His mouth trailed higher, paying attentions to a rather sensitive spot just below her ear. She bit her lip to stifle a moan. "There's no reason for me to be here without you."

The words were like a cold bucket of water thrown on the flame he had been building in her. She froze, pulling his head back by the hair.

"What?!" she demanded, her eyes growing wide.

"You're the only reason why I didn't leave here weeks ago, Sheik," he breathed, leaning in to reclaim her lips, "I need to be where you are."

"No—" She twisted her head away, and he sobered in an instant, stopping at once.

"No?"

"You—you can't leave here," she said, voice becoming frantic. She let him go, pushing away from the wall and beginning to pace. "You have to marry the princess! The fate of Hyrule depends on it!"

"That doesn't matter!"

"Of _course_ it matters!"

"How can I marry her when I want you?"

Frustration mounting, she whirled on him. "I'm not going anywhere, Link!"

His mouth fell agape.

"You…you would stay with me, knowing that I'm intended for someone else?"

"Yes," Sheik said, before she could even comprehend what it was she was saying.

"She'll be my wife. She'll have my children."

She swallowed. "I know that."

"And that doesn't matter to you?"

"I want this," she said, instead of answering his question. "I'll stay as long as you'll have me. But you have to promise that you'll get on better terms with the princess and go on with the wedding. Your marriage is bigger than the two of us. It involves the entirety of Hyrule."

He slumped against the wall, running a tired hand down his face. "I know."

She came towards him, standing up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "And you have to promise to get some sleep. You look exhausted."

He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on hers. "I _am_ exhausted. But if it means keeping you, I'll do what you say."

She closed her eyes. "Thank you."

"Anything for you." He lifted her face, kissing her for too brief an instant before releasing her, pulling away from the wall. "I should be going back to the castle. Will you meet me tomorrow?"

"Of course."

"All right." He smiled, and it was enough to make the heat rise in her stomach once more. "Goodnight, Sheik."

"Goodnight, Link."

He turned his back on her and left then, starting the path back to the castle gate with an all but silent tread. She watched him go until he was swallowed by the darkness, her stomach twisting into knots as she came to realize what she had just done.

She reached up and touched her lips, still buzzing with the electricity from his kisses.

Her final thought as she hoisted herself up onto the wall of the alley was that she had, if possible, just made her mess quite larger than it had ever been before.

 **o(OXO)o**

When he came to her in the morning, it was so ungodly early that she hadn't even changed from her nightgown. But he was insistent and continued to knock at her door.

"I'm indecent," she said, sweeping her hair over her shoulder and hastily braiding it, trying to disguise the darkening mark on her neck.

She could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "I'm to be your husband."

However much she couldn't argue with that point, a look in the mirror listed all the reasons why she couldn't let him in but couldn't dare vocalize.

Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were wild. Her lips were swollen red, so obviously recently kissed that she could hardly stand to look at herself. No, she couldn't let him in, that much was certain.

"Princess, with every respect you're due, we need to talk, and it can't wait. At the risk of sounding rude, you can either open this door, or I'll bust it down."

Her stomach dropped.

"All right, all right, just give me a moment."

She tugged her robe on over her nightgown, tying it tight as she hastily crossed the room to her washbasin. She splashed her face once, and though the cool water felt quite nice on her overheated skin, she knew that it would do little to disguise what she had done.

But he wouldn't wait any longer.

She all but ran to the door, unbolting the lock and wrenching it open.

There he stood, in the same clothes he had worn the night before, though there was no evidence of the drinks he had consumed. If he noticed what she feared he would—and there was no way that he couldn't have, truly—he didn't mention in. Instead, he nodded to her, unsmiling.

"May I come in?" he asked.

Her cheeks flushed even deeper as he looked down at her, expression impassive but eyes conveying the same nervousness she felt.

By all three of the goddesses, his lips were still swollen, too.

"I am unsure if that is the best idea," she said, breathless.

"This isn't a conversation I want to have in the hallway."

"Yes," she agreed, "But—"

"Zelda." It was one of the few times that he had ever used her given name, and she felt herself melt. What power he had been given over her in just one night. She was such a fool. "Please?"

She couldn't deny him anything.

"Very well," she conceded, and with a quick glance around the hall to be sure there was no one around to see, opened the door and gestured him in.

He sat himself down on her chaise, leaning down to rest his elbows on his legs and folding his hands together. She looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

But he didn't. Instead, in an almost identical position to the way he had sat the previous night on the crate, he hunched over and stared at his hands.

She exhaled heavily.

" _You_ asked to see _me_ , you know," she said, and he held a hand up, his brow furrowing.

"I'm trying to figure out how to word this," he said.

"What?"

" _Shh_ ," he hushed, and she scowled.

"Did you just _shush_ me, you—"

"Look, Zelda, there are no excuses for how abominably I've acted the last week," he said, interrupting her tirade. He looked up at her, and his eyes were pleading. "I can't blame you for the mess we've been put in."

"What?" she asked again, the breath knocked from her chest.

Abominably. He'd said _abominably_.

"I understand now how this is going to work. You're going to have your exploits, and I'm going to have mine, but for matters of the kingdom, we're going to work together." He sucked in a deep breath, rubbing his hands together. "We're going to be married because the people wish it, but that doesn't mean we can't be friends, can it?"

She nodded slowly, still entirely aghast. When she'd told him to apologize, she hadn't expected him to be so…sincere. "I…suppose not."

"I'm sorry for the way I've acted. Can you forgive me? Can we start over?"

She exhaled, trying to compose herself.

"Yes," she said, "We can."

He stood at these words, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles with gratitude.

"Thank you," he murmured, and she closed her eyes, trying not to imagine what it would be like if she wasn't the one he was seeing every night.

 **So how's that for a comeback chapter?**

 **Leave a word if you would. When I was gone, it was the reviews that brought me back. Knowing there're people out there, loving my story, makes it so much harder to stop writing! I don't want to let any of you down.**

 **Check out my tumblr at alyssawritesalot for the original work that I've been working on, fanfic bonuses, writing snippets, and more!**


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